By JP Dancing Bear

 

The fires of the sun

have already worked this world

till there is a sense of its dust

gritting into everything.

 

—*—

 

The pueblo glows red

in the sunset

like some immense heart.

You want to walk through

the chambers

with a broom

hoping to move

the dust into piles

—neat and unnatural.

 

—*—

 

While your own heart swings

like a porch lamp on a wire—

a beacon for the multifaceted eyes.

And somehow you build this

scene into an analogy of love.

Perhaps my own body begins

to twitch with the desire for light

the false sun that rights the night earth.

Up or down,

I fall forward into the beams

of your heart

with a taste for flickering

and creaking wood

as unsure as I am

of what this body wants to be.

 

 

_____________

J. P. Dancing Bear is the author of nine collections of poetry including, Inner Cities of Gulls (2010, Salmon Poetry). His tenth collection, Family of Marsupial Centaurs will be released by Iris Press in 2011. He is editor for the American Poetry Journal and Dream Horse Press and hosts the poetry show, Out of Our Minds, on KKUP and available as podcasts.

 

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Posted by Mel. View all posts by Mel
Friday, July 1st, 2011 7:55 am
Categories: Issue 5.1, Poetry